


Marvel One-Shots

by sabinelagrande



Series: Marvel One-Shots [1]
Category: Inception (2010), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Not Those Kind of Shorts, Shorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 16,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A running collection of little bits of stories. Various ratings, various pairings, just various in general.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mark VIII - Tony/Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [JeziBelle](http://ao3.org/users/jezibelle): _SCIENCE BROS, I HAVE WRITTEN CLINT/COULSON FOR YOU AND ERIN AND I DEMAND RECOMPENSE._

“It’s not worth it,” Bruce said, looking back down at his experiment. 

“It’s completely worth it,” Tony said. “I can have the Mark VIII worked up by the end of the week, and the fabrication won’t take any time at all. I’m not saying it won’t be-” Tony made a wiggly hand motion- “clanky, and it’s not that I’m a do-me queen- okay, I am a do-me queen, but you’ll have to do the work, unless you really want four hundred pounds of Stark and suit on top of you.” Tony snapped his fingers in front of Bruce’s face until Bruce looked up. “The point is, I can make a suit with access points that will be comfortable and at least Hulk-resistant- and don’t even pretend like you don’t think I’m hot in a suit.” Bruce snorted, and Tony pushed at his arm. “Come on, It’s worth trying.”

Bruce took his glasses off, sighing. “It’s not worth it because you could use the Mark VII,” he said. “Have it installed in the house in Blue Creek, wear the bracelets, and if-” He shrugged, looking down again. “Well, the other guy seems to like you anyway.”

Tony stared at him for a moment.

“Jarvis,” he called.

“I am already working on a timetable and consulting with the staff at Blue Creek,” Jarvis responded.

Tony put his hands on Bruce’s shoulders, leaning in and kissing him. “You are a brilliant, brilliant man.” He clapped his hands on Bruce’s arms. “Now pack. Warm weather.”

“Just because it’s logistically possible doesn’t mean this isn’t a ridiculously dangerous idea,” Bruce told him, as Tony turned to go.

“Said that on the box when you picked me up, Banner,” Tony said as he left. “Should’ve read the label.”


	2. Resort - Phil/Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [JeziBelle](http://ao3.org/users/jezibelle): _Phil/Natasha, shippy or not, beautiful and secluded._

Natasha’s not an idiot, but she plays one on TV; the lobby of the insanely expensive ‘eco resort’ the mark runs just looks like new money to her, nothing else, but she knows how to coo over it, hanging off of Coulson’s arm in just the right way to make her look exactly like how she wants to be seen.

She knows just what to do when they get to their ‘private’ cabin, too, how to back him against the door and whisper nasty things in his ear- threat assessments are nasty, don’t let anyone tell you they’re not- how to throw him across the bed and ride him like she’s thinking about the money, long and hard but distant, how to be seen going through his wallet while he’s being seen to be asleep.

Better than anything she knows that secluded isn’t, and that you should never be more than two feet from your gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with expanded version! See [money on my mind](http://archiveofourown.org/works/489814) (Explicit, 1576 words)


	3. Odd Man Out - Erik/Raven/Charles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [pearl_o](http://ao3.org/users/pearl_o): _Raven/Charles/Erik, Raven and Charles not letting Erik participate_

“The noises are unnecessary,” Erik says, over the racket the two of them are making, which is more than overkill for just two people just having sex. They’re doing it purposefully to bother him, as if the sight of them together wasn’t enough, Raven’s head dropping back, Charles’s hand on her thigh, the contrast of their skin.

He’s not sorry for what he did to get kicked out of bed, but he is starting to regret it.


	4. Look - Charles/Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [Cesare](http://ao3.org/users/cesare): _Charles/any-all Avengers characters, finding something unexpected_

He doesn’t particularly want to enter the Other Fellow’s mind, but it has to be done. He doesn’t like what he sees there, a maelstrom that rips into him and makes him feel physically ill when he’s done, likes even less the fact that there’s no Doctor Banner to be found in there, no line that separates the two of them, no boundary that he can shove apart in hopes of ripping them one from the other.

He does it anyway; he finds Bruce much too fascinating to do anything less.


	5. Reality - Phil/Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [shadowen](http://ao3.org/users/shadowen): _Here's another one for you: Steve and Phil watch television together. Hilarity and bonding ensue._

It is to Phil’s great, great sadness that Steve does not enjoy watching Swamp People with him; Phil was really looking for someone else around the tower he could share it with, because there’s really nothing quite so stress relieving as sitting down to a good marathon. 

It becomes Phil’s great, great joy about fifteen seconds after Steve reaches over and turns the television off, because that’s when Phil realizes that Steve is advancing on him very slowly, like he’s afraid that Phil is going to get up or push him away, as if there were any chance of that at all in any reality ever, Phil rejecting Steve after he’s spent basically his entire life pining after him; Steve puts his hand on Phil’s thigh and kind of awkwardly stammers until Phil takes him by the shoulder and hauls him in, making sure there is absolutely no chance that Steve will bolt, making sure that this goes exactly like he so desperately wants it to.

Swamp People is great stress relief, but he can think of things that will be MUCH more effective.


	6. Incensed - Tony/Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [shadowen](http://ao3.org/users/shadowen): _Since you've got me stuck on this Inception/Avengers fusion, I'd like to hear more abut Bruce and Yusuf being BFFs and how Tony might be just a tiny bit jealous. <3_

“It smells like Nag Champa threw up in here,” Tony mutters as he walks into the lab, the one that’s supposed to be set aside for Bruce- and just Bruce, apparently he wasn’t clear enough on that one. But of course, these past few weeks it’s turned into a full on hippie den, ever since Bruce’s latest internet chat buddy turned up with a suitcase full of glass bottles and a cat- there was definitely never supposed to be a cat.

He finds the two of them, Bruce and Yusuf, sprawled out across chairs in a corner of the lab; the cat is sitting in Bruce’s lap, making biscuits on his thighs before settling in, looking at Tony as if daring him to say something. Bruce’s mouth is hanging open in such a fashion that Tony has to tweet it before he can go any further- out of respect, it goes on his private twitter, never let it be said that Tony Stark is not a gracious host.

Yusuf is next to him, and Tony maybe kicks him a little- doesn’t kick him kick him, just hits him with his foot, which is a different proposition. Either way, he doesn’t stir, not even when Tony’s phone goes off- a “lol needs audio” from Clint. There’s no noise, though, except the PASIV’s clock ticking. There’s only a minute forty-five left on the countdown, and Tony suddenly doesn’t want to be there when they wake up, even though it’s his house, dammit.

“I’m watching you,” Tony tells the cat, who gives him a completely unimpressed cat expression. “Both of you.” 

The cat yawns at him.

He really gets no respect, not even in his own territory.


	7. Window - Loki/Sif

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [coffeesuperhero](http://ao3.org/users/coffeesuperhero): _A WILD SIF/LOKI PROMPT APPEARED! First date, texting and scones, bonus points for Sif's irrational hatred of Midgardian technology and Loki's long-suffering patience with aforementioned hatred. I REGRET NOTHING._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is from [shadowen](http://ao3.org/users/shadowen)’s high school AU, a rare happy moment before Loki goes crazy and burns down the gym. As one does. And it has very little to do with the prompt. As one also does.

Loki starts awake, sitting straight up in bed. It takes him a moment to realize that the banging on his bedroom window is really happening, not just part of his dream; he’s reaching into the nightstand for his knife when he hears the familiar voice calling his name from outside.

“Loki,” Sif is saying, muffled by the glass, and Loki crawls over, unlatching the window and pulling it up. Sif doesn’t wait to be invited in, sticking her upper body through and perching on the sill. “I got your text message.”

He looks over at his clock. “I must have sent it six hours ago.”

“I didn’t check my phone until after the game was over,” Sif tells him.

“So you thought you’d come over instead of replying?” he says, feeling groggy; it isn’t that he hasn’t wanted her to be in his bedroom late at night, but these aren’t the conditions he was envisioning. Then again, he’s got to admit that it’s just like her to avoid the phone at all costs, and it’s possible that he should have known better than to try and avoid speaking to her directly.

“It was on my way,” Sif says, not perturbed at all. “I’ve just come by to say yes.”

Loki is a little bit nonplussed. “Yes?”

“Yes,” she says, grinning, and she leans over and kisses him; that’s a little bit more like he wanted. “You can take me out on a date.”

“Good,” Loki says. Of course she’d say yes; there was never any real doubt, just a little nervous weakness on his end. “When?”

“We’ll talk about it,” Sif says, ducking back out of the window. “Don’t text me.”

“I don’t know,” Loki says. “It seems to have fairly good results.”

She rolls her eyes. “Go back to bed, Loki.”

“Good night, my lady,” he says, closing the window and latching it behind her; she smiles at him from the other side of the glass, waving goodbye.


	8. Boots - Charles/Erik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 1940's AU, based on [this image.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m1o1t8I6px1qe1qcjo1_500.png)

He doesn’t fit in well, not in the usual crowd. The lines are sharp, and you don’t cross them, but Erik always seems to end up falling through the cracks, split up by the edges.

He’s just not very good at gay, to be perfectly frank. He’s not pretty; he’d like to think he’s fairly handsome, but not the way he needs to be handsome. He just doesn’t do it right, being gay, not the way he needs to do it. He can watch other men, but he doesn’t get it, can’t copy it, must be missing subtleties that he just can’t discern. Maybe he’d get it if he were American, but it seems a little hopeless as it stands.

Straight isn’t much better, but he looks the part. If he does it right, he can pass for rough trade, and even that he’s not great at- he works at a bank, for god’s sake, not the docks. The only calluses on his fingers the ones from his guitar and he’s far too skinny; but if he doesn’t shave and doesn’t say much, he gets by.

It gets him sex, at least; the pretty, slight ones gravitate towards him, the ones who like intimidating but not too threatening. They’re not interested in what he wants, not really; the idea that he’s using them is a fantasy, an excuse, applicable in other cases but certainly not where Erik is concerned. Most of the time they won’t go anywhere with him, just want him to fuck them in the alleyway, maybe let them suck him off in the bathroom. If it’s not fast and at least a little rough, they look at him in disapproval; he learned quickly to do it the way he’s supposed to or get cast out.

It’s not important that Erik would like to hold someone, that he’d like to lie in bed, just kissing, for as long as he wants; everybody knows that’s what his girlfriend, his wife is for, whatever woman he supposedly goes home to, the one who ignores the smell of cigarettes and sweat on him when she takes him into her arms.

It’s utter heresy to suggest that he might like to get fucked every now and again.

He pulls his boots on; the laces have gotten tangled, and he works the knots out of them with his fingers before tugging on them, tightening the leather around his calves. They’re uncomfortable, not nearly broken in yet, because he only ever wears them to go out. He wonders what tonight will be like; maybe he’ll meet someone, or maybe he’ll just have a drink or two and go home. He’s not in the mood to stay out all night, not at the place he goes to, because it gets boring after a while, nothing to do but stand against the bar and look at people significantly. There are plenty of people he knows, but none of them he particularly cares to sit around and talk with; just because he knows people doesn’t mean he has any friends.

He thinks about the last time, wondering if that man will be there again, the one who sticks out in his mind; he didn’t fit either, neatly pressed, not a hair out of place. He was smiling a lot, drinking a lot, but he was clearly not getting it, not playing the game correctly.

Erik doesn’t know why he’s even thinking about him, when he only really saw him for a moment. Erik looked up and saw him looking, and they locked eyes; the man smiled, genuine and familiar, like he knew, like he knew exactly. Erik was just about to make his way over, but then someone tugged on his arm to get his attention, and by the time he looked back, the man was gone.

Erik stands up, the boots making it a little hard- he’s really got to make it a point to learn to walk better in these things. He takes a look at himself in the mirror; what he sees is passable, good enough for government work. He picks up his jacket and his keys, and he leaves.


	9. Bite - Charles/Erik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apropos of nothing.

Tonight, Charles is bent over him, his hands on Erik's shoulders, and he's bearing down with his full weight. Granted, Charles's full weight doesn't amount to much; if Erik made the slightest effort, he could easily flip Charles over, but that's not what he wants right now, not at all.

What he mostly wants right now is for Charles to _get on with it_.

So far, well, Charles got on top of him, and then they were kissing and fairly shamelessly rubbing against each other, but now Charles isn't moving. He's just looking down at Erik; he's probably been doing it for two or three minutes now, and, well, Erik has just never been known for his patience.

"What is it?" Erik demands, a little more forcefully than he intended.

"I can't decide," Charles tells him, still looking at Erik thoughtfully.

Erik looks at him in confusion. "I thought we were past that."

"I'm trying to pick _exactly_ the right spot," Charles explains.

"For what?" he asks.

Charles grins. "For the perfect mark."

Erik laughs breathlessly. "You are patently ridiculous."

"Anything worth doing is worth doing well," Charles says. "Tilt your head, please."

Erik rolls his eyes, but he tilts his head, stretching his neck out so Charles can survey it. Charles bends down, his breath hot on Erik's skin for a moment before he starts licking and nibbling his way up.

He stops, scraping his teeth over what seems like an arbitrary point about halfway between his shoulder and his jaw. "Right here, I think," Charles says, and before Erik can say anything, he sinks his teeth into Erik's neck, sucking hard. Erik breathes in sharply, his whole body tensing, fighting back despite how good it feels. Charles does it harder, and Erik writhes underneath him, trying to get away even though he wants it; Charles pushes him down against the bed as hard as he can, completely unrelenting. Erik relaxes, letting him do it, letting him take control completely.

His mouth is unpredictable, harsh and soft by turns, teeth and tongue and lips, bites and kisses in equal measure. Just when Erik is about two seconds from going completely mad, Charles finally lets up on him; he looks down at his handiwork, considering it with a critical eye.

"It's definitely nice," Charles says, frowning; it's not a coincidence that he shifts his hips just then, grinding against Erik's cock. "But it's not _perfect_." He shakes his head. "No, I'll just have to start again."

Erik shakes his head. "Only you, Charles," he pants.

"It had better be only me," Charles says, grinning widely. "Now let me see the other side of your neck."

Erik groans, but he does it, and Charles sets to work once more.


	10. Figures - Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [grammarwoman](http://grammarwoman.dreamwidth.org): _Clint buys the Avengers action figures, and acts out stories with them._

"That doesn't sound like Bruce at all," Phil says, and Clint near about jumps out of his skin, whipping his head around.

"What I do in here is private," he snaps, embarrassed.

Phil peers over his shoulder anyway. "Did you repaint a Ken doll into a SHIELD agent?"

"Hasbro doesn't make Coulsons," Clint says, trying to shock him.

"You're not doing it right," Phil tells him, and he takes the Hawkeye out of his hands, picking up the Coulson too. "Less of this," he says, holding them apart and making sort of dancing motions with them. "More of this." He puts them together, rubbing them against each other.

"You're the one who said I needed a hobby," Clint says, standing up and putting his arms around Phil's neck.

Phil smirks. "I'll give you something to do."


	11. Theft - Gen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [theleaveswant](http://ao3.org/users/theleaveswant): _The one where Clint kept trying to steal Tony's ukuleles._

"He's a fucking menace with that thing," Clint said quietly.

"I know," Natasha told him, "but you're doing it backwards. You can't let him know you hate the thing."

"Well, we're past that," Clint said. "He'll just be more suspicious if I make it out like I like it."

Natasha pursed her lips. "Well, you'll just have to sweet-talk Jarvis," she said. "Maybe he'll see reason."

"He's an AI," Clint said. "I would think he'd have seen reason on this one already. But no, Tony's there jamming away. I didn't even know you could play American Pie on a ukulele."

"You can ruin most anything on a ukulele," Natasha told him. "Just try Jarvis. If that doesn't work, Plan B."

"Full frontal assault?"

"Is there any other Plan B?"


	12. Reception - Phil/Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [JeziBelle](http://ao3.org/users/jezibelle): _Phil/Steve, adventures with cell phones_

They were late beginning the morning meeting at SHIELD HQ, but as far as Steve was concerned, that made it just the same as every morning.

"I apologize for not responding to your voicemail, Captain, but I only just got it," Coulson said, slipping into the chair beside him.

Steve frowned, pulling out his phone and looking at it; he didn't remember calling Coulson at all, but there it was, an outgoing call from last night. "Oh, sorry, I booty-called you."

Natasha smacked Bruce hard on the back until he stopped choking on his cookie. Clint hid his face in Tony's shoulder, shaking with laughter; Tony was absolutely howling, pounding on the table. Only Thor remained unmoved, giving the rest of them a slightly befuddled look.

"Captain, can I have a word with you?" Coulson said, as completely calm as usual.

Steve got the distinct sense that he'd said something very wrong, though he had no idea what it was. "Of course," he said, standing up and letting Coulson lead him out. 

They didn't get very far before Coulson caught hold of his shirt and pressed him back against the wall, into one of the pools of shadow that lined the walls of the corridor. Steve prepared himself for a thorough dressing-down, but that wasn't at all what he got; instead, Coulson put his hand on the back of Steve's neck, pulling him down and kissing him hard. Steve had no idea what was going on, but it didn't matter very much, not as much as getting his arms around Coulson and holding him close, kissing him until he couldn't anymore.

"Shouldn't have hung up," Coulson- it was probably okay to call him Phil now, right? He'd just had the man's tongue in his mouth- Phil said.

"I certainly won't in the future," Steve told him. "So I, um-"

"My place at ten," Phil said, kissing him again. "Don't be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Steve said, as Phil walked away.

Steve really needed to sit on his phone more often.


	13. Foundling - Gen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bendingwind](http://ao3.org/users/bendingwind): _accidental baby aquisition, pretty preeetty please? Any fandom/ship!_

“I do not understand,” Thor said, cradling the baby in one big hand. “She is a child. She must be cared for, for she is frail and weak.”

“That’s not how we do things here,” Phil said, reaching for the baby.

“You do not take care of your children?” Thor said, aghast, pulling it out of his reach.

“Of course we do, but there are systems in place for orphans,” Phil told him. “Social Services will take it, and hopefully someone will adopt it-“

“There is hope for this child now,” Thor said. “She will be the daughter of the prince of Asgard. That is her hope and my command, and I will not be stopped.” He walked out, very firmly ending the conversation.

“Can we at least get it a birth certificate?” Phil called. He recognized a lost battle when he saw one.


	14. Shots - Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [allthatihavemet](http://allthatihavemet.tumblr.com): _Clint! Drunk fic!_

"Hey," Clint says, all smiles, flopping down on the couch and putting his head in Phil's lap.

"Hello," Phil says warily. "You've been out with Tony, haven't you."

"Yup," Clint says happily. 

"You did shots with Tony," Phil says.

Clint grins, shutting his eyes. "We did _shots_."

Phil sighs. "I'm not going to convince you not to do shots with Tony, am I."

"Nope," Clint says, looking at him with only one eye open. "You could maybe talk me out of all the whiskey we had first. Don't like whiskey as much as shots."

"What about shots with whiskey in them?"

Clint nuzzles his thigh, which is unusually innocent nuzzling for Clint when he's drunk. "Shots shouldn't have whiskey in them. Shots should be pretty. I like 'em green and blue and purple." He raises a finger. "I don't wanna hear how that makes me girly." He pokes Phil in the vague area of his knee. "I. Like. Shots."

"Time for water," Phil says, urging him up.

"I had water," Clint protests, but he lets Phil push him upright; that lasts for thirty seconds before he flops down the other way.

"Whiskey and water doesn't count," Phil tells him.

"You're so _mean_ ," Clint whines.

"Just wait," Phil says. "You'll be saying that about Tony soon."

"Tony is my _friend_ ," Clint says blearily. "Tony buys me _shots_. You don't buy me shots."

"Sure, sure," Phil says. Clint shuts his eyes, and Phil waits for a ten-count; at nine, Clint is already snoring.

Tony's getting a talk in the morning.


	15. Addendum - Tony/Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I read the fabulous [How Not To Be A Cliché](http://archiveofourown.org/series/24519) by [lettered](http://ao3.org/users/lettered), and this little thing sort of popped into my head. It is the fault of Pepper's spreadsheets.

They've been dating for three weeks when Pepper finally comes to him with the list.

It's not that she hasn't had the nerve, and it's not that the sex as it stands isn't any good. She's just cautious, in this situation; she's made very expensive business deals that didn't have this much riding on them.

She is, as far as she knows, the only person Tony will let hand him things, though she also knows that this is because she just doesn't give him a choice. So she takes a deep breath and pushes the list into his hands, knowing there's no turning back.

He looks at it for a moment before he looks back up at her. "It's early for a Valentine."

"It's all- the whole thing is optional," she says, feeling like this was a bad idea, but now she's got to stay the course. "But it's something I want to discuss."

"This is a big list," he says, flipping to the second page.

"Well, it's a big subject," she says, crossing her arms.

"I'm noticing here that this is all receiving," he says, his eyes skimming the paper.

"There's a reason for that," she says, and now she's just getting annoyed.

"I didn't think you had it in you," he says. "I was damn sure I was dealing with a top."

She raises an eyebrow; now _there's_ a statement that says a lot. "I expected you to buy into the 'dominant in the boardroom, submissive in the bedroom' thing."

"What unites subs is that they're all control freaks," Tony tells her. "What unites doms is that they're all control freaks."

"Are you a control freak, then?" she challenges.

He gives her a smile that makes the room get about ten degrees hotter. "In ways you couldn't imagine."

Pepper absolutely _doesn't_ shiver. "I need your undivided attention," she tells him. "This is important."

"C'mon," Tony says, "when have I ever divided my attention?"

"Tony."

"Go on, name once," he says. "I'm so good at paying attention, you have no idea."

"Tony."

"I've paid attention for upwards of forty-five minutes before," he continues. "Even an hour one time. Admittedly very difficult, but-"

"Tony, stop it," she snaps. "If you're not going to listen to me and take this seriously, I'm leaving."

"Pepper," he says firmly, taking a step forward; they're of a height, but suddenly it seems like he's looming over her. "Do you know what I want to do right now? I want to take your list and rip it up. I want to drag you into the other room, throw you across my bed, and fuck you until you can't remember your own name. I want to tie you down and keep you there, so that you don't have a choice but to let me fuck you over and over again." She takes a sharp breath, waiting for him to do it, but he relaxes, suddenly not so scary after all. "But right now, I'm going to take your list, and I'm going to memorize it. I am going to know what every word of it says. We are going to talk about the list. We are probably going to _fight_ about the list. But, for once in my natural life, I am going to pay attention." He smirks. "Then I'm going to take you into the next room for the throwing and the tying and the fucking, as long as it's on the list."

Pepper just stares at him for a moment, and then she picks up her pencil. "I'm making an addendum."

He kisses the corner of her mouth. "I love addendums. Can't get enough of them. Now let's talk about ball gags."


	16. Library - Loki/Sif

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [coffeesuperhero](http://ao3.org/users/coffeesuperhero): _Loki/Sif, prompt: in the library, on top of the books, but you can’t be too loud_

The folio underneath her is hundreds of years old, perhaps older than that, but Sif is clutching at the pages regardless, the edges curling under her grip. She only clenches them tighter when Loki starts moving faster, fucking her with short strokes that leave her gasping, working back against him.

"Shh," he says softly, when she moans, and she presses her face against the book, her hot breath absorbed by the pages. "Wouldn't want anyone to hear _this_ ," he tells her, thrusting in sharply for emphasis.

"You can do better than that," she says, goading him. "Stop playing games."

"You're going to regret saying that," he says, grabbing her braid and pulling, bending her back towards him as he takes her hard, and the parchment rips in her hands as she comes.

"My lady," he says courteously, when it's done, when they're both back in some semblance of order, after their breathing has calmed, and then he turns and walks out on her, leaving her there with the books and their secret.

And the only thing she regrets is ruining a perfectly good saga.


	17. Stone Soup - Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [shadowen](http://ao3.org/users/shadowen): _Could I maybe get some C/C domestic fluff? Maybe they’re cooking dinner? <3_

"Absolutely fucking not," Clint says resolutely, taking the keys out of Phil's hands.

"I thought you liked Burger King," Phil says, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I have been sitting in a nest for three days eating nothing but peanut butter sandwiches," Clint tells him. "We are eating some real. Goddamned. Food."

Phil raises his hands. "Your call," he says, because he knows when Clint is not to be trifled with. 

Clint rummages through the cabinets, pulling out things at random, things that make no sense together to Phil. Occasionally he swears about his lack of something, his overabundance of something else, but eventually he has it, carrying the whole load back to the stovetop and pulling down a big pot. Now Phil's onto his game, though he's not sure what the hell some of this stuff is doing in soup, but it's Clint's project, so Phil doesn't interfere.

Once the whole mess is on to boil, Clint stops, sighing, leaning back against the wall and looking at Phil. "It was a long three days."

Phil steps forward, putting his arms around Clint's waist and kissing him. "Tell me about it."

The kiss quickly turns heated; they've been known to run ops that last for months, to be dragged away from each other by work over and over again. It hasn't stopped them yet, but it also doesn't mean three days isn't still a long time to be separated. 

"Okay, okay," Clint says, pushing him gently away. "Half the pantry is in that pot, and I'm not ruining it by making out. Making out's for later."

"I'll put it on the schedule," Phil says, pecking him on the lips.

Lo and behold, the soup is good.

The making out is better.


	18. Film - Phil/Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [justicemuffins](http://ao3.org/users/justicemuffins): _Uh… Capsicoul, watching scary movies for Halloween? I DON’T KNOW._ and [dizmo](http://ao3.org/users/dizmo): _Capsicoul. Halloween. Go._

Steve thinks Phil is humoring him at first. He almost tells Phil to stop, because $110 is a lot of money just for humoring. But then the package actually arrives, and Phil kind of looks like he wants to put his face in it. He looks like a kid on Christmas, even though he hides it very, very well, and Steve smiles.

"Which one first?" Phil says, holding up the case, like it's a done deal that Steve is going to drop everything and watch movies with him- which, in fairness, is exactly what Steve is going to do.

"I always liked _Dracula_ ," Steve says, looking at all the pictures, the posters he remembers from when he was a kid. Even relatively, it's been a long time since he's seen any of them.

"Good choice," Phil says, slotting the disc into the player. He sits down, picking up the remote, and Steve sits down next to him. Phil navigates his way through the menus and starts the movie. The music begins, and it sounds thin and reedy; it ought to be sort of cheesy and unimpressive, given what he's seen now, the billion-dollar blockbusters that he's been shown. 

It's not, not at all. It speaks to him the same way that it did before, gets down into his memories, still scares him just like it did when he was barely a teenager. There's still something about it, even when it's on the TV and not on a big screen, especially when he can be alone here with Phil, an arm around him and a hand in the popcorn bowl, no one to interrupt or judge.

The movie ends, and Phil sets down the remote, looking expectantly at Steve. " _Frankenstein_ next?" Steve asks, and Phil smiles.


	19. Tired - Loki/Sif

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [nausiwindstrider](http://nausiwindstrider.tumblr.com): _Loki/Sif? Oh! Oh! Maybe a foot rub after battle? Oh god, I did not know I wanted that. OH!_
> 
> In my head this is from the [Happy Funtimes universe](http://stickthisbig.tumblr.com/tagged/HAPPY-FUNTIMES-ARE-THE-BEST-TIMES), but it's not necessary to know anything for this snippet except that Loki is a lot less of a dick.

"They're disgusting," Sif protested.

"My lady, we do have soap and water right here," Loki said, amused, walking in with the basin.

"You'll get your clothes wet."

"They'll dry," he said, setting it in front of her.

"This is all really very- ohhh," she said, as Loki lowered her tired feet into the warm water. "Well, if you're going to be so insistent-"

"Oh, I am," Loki promised her.

"I suppose I'd better let you then," she said, relaxing into her couch as Loki washed her feet, cleaning the grime of battle from them. It felt so good after hours of walking, days of riding, swollen and aching as they were. She groaned, her head tilting back as he began to massage them, digging his thumbs into the soles, right where the tension was the worst. "Just like that, _please_."

He chuckled. "If I knew it was so easy to get you to beg-"

"Stop talking," she said, shutting her eyes.

Loki kissed the inside of her knee, working all the stress out of her foot. "I don't think you'd like me very much if I did."

She offered him the other one. "Let's call it an experiment," she said, and Loki laughed softly.

"This once," he told her.

She stretched, sinking deeper into the couch. "This once," she said. "Now do that a little to the right."


	20. Duel - Bruce/Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [jezibelle](http://ao3.org/users/jezibelle): _YES YES PROMPTS. We demand Bruce/Natasha in spaghetti western or ancient Egypt, your choice._

They walk ten paces and turn, and Bruce takes his gun out of his holster, dropping it. Blonsky raises an eyebrow, but he says nothing. "On three," Bruce says, and Blonsky nods.

"One," Bruce starts, and on two, Blonsky is dead on the ground. 

Natasha steps out of the shadows, holstering her gun and sauntering over to Bruce.

"It's a crime to interrupt a duel," Bruce tells her.

She shakes her head. "It's a much worse crime for a good man to die."

Bruce's face goes dark. "I'm not a good man."

"I'm not a good woman," she tells him. "Maybe I don't care."


	21. Sunshine - Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [lilliephoenix](http://lilliephoenix.tumblr.com): _C/C fluff. clint singing and baking. phil thinks it’s adorable, teases, or joins in._

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone," Clint sings, his voice filtering out of the kitchen and into the living room where Phil is working. "It's not warm when she's away." His voice isn't deep enough to really do the song justice, but he's doing his best. It's kind of incongruous, considering that he's in there making cupcakes, but that's Clint, a mix of things that don't go together that come out perfectly anyway.

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and she's always gone too long, anytime she goes away," he croons, raising his voice above the noise from the KitchenAid, and Phil smiles at his laptop. If he says anything, Clint will stop, and that's the last thing he wants.


	22. Thaw - Phil/Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [shadowen](http://ao3.org/users/shadowen): _If you're bored I could maybe get a Capsicoul cyberpunk AU?_

“He was caught by the ICE for over seventy minutes,” Fury says. “We have no idea why he’s still alive.”

Coulson looks through the one-way glass into the next room, where Rogers is sitting on the exam table. He looks lost, confused, the way he never looks in Coulson’s head, the way he never looked in the smiling photographs distributed by the defense forces to celebrate his victories.

“I’ll take care of him,” Coulson says. 

“You better,” Fury replies. “He needs someone to ease him back into this world. Be careful.”

“Yes, sir,” Coulson says, the wheels already turning in his head.


	23. This Is Iron Man - Tony/Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [coffeesuperhero](http://ao3.org/users/coffeesuperhero): _Tony/everyone in a rock band mockumentary AU._

"Yeah, that time was in Omaha," Tony says. "Do you know how boring Omaha is? Because I do now. Trust me, that whole night was a good idea."

The filmmaker cuts to blurry footage from a cell phone camera. "Tell me what we're looking at," he says, in voiceover.

"I don't- Okay, this is around six or seven the night before the show," Tony says. "Don't remember who took this video, probably Clint, that's the kinda thing he's into. On the table there we've got magic brownies, booze, what looks like- was that when we had that bible of acid? This must be early, it looks like most of it's still there. There's the band, couple groupies, but I'm not sure where I am."

"Clint!" Tony says, from the tape. "Room for one more, buddy."

"Oh, _there_ I am," Tony-the-voiceover says. "Get ready to see me bite off _way_ more than I could chew. You can't see me because I'm over in the corner getting gangb-"

"The next few months were all success for the Avengers," the filmmaker says, looking into the camera.


	24. Counsel - Phil/Steve, Tony/Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [classyshippingblog](http://classyshippingblog.tumblr.com): _Capsicoul, Magic AU : >_

"Tell me what to do, Coulson," the young king says, his head in his hands.

"My advice to you is to marry the Lady Pepper," the wizard tells him calmly. "It is a good match and she is a fine woman." He coughs.

Steve looks at him in concern. "What was that for?"

"You should probably keep her from spending too much time with the knights," he says. "If she needs an escort somewhere, you should probably do it yourself."

Steve frowns. "I respect her more than to question her fidelity. It would be in bad faith-"

"Just trust me on this one, my liege," Coulson tells him. "I might watch her around Sir Anthony."

"But he's my closest friend," Steve says, looking wounded. "Coulson, you are my most trusted advisor, and I know of your travels through time, but surely they would not betray me."

Coulson looks contemplative for a moment. "Have you considered getting them to marry each other?"

"I don't think that-" Steve stops. "They would make a good couple." He gives Coulson a bashful look. "And I fear she would make you move out."

Coulson cards his hand through Steve's hair. "Then play kingly matchmaker," he says. "We will all be much better off for it."


	25. Token - Darcy/Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bendingwind](http://ao3.org/users/bendingwind): _Darcy/Steve medieval AU BECAUSE OF REASONS?_. A continuation of [this story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/488998/chapters/941443). As one does.

"She gave me this token to wear," Steve says, looking completely confused. "I thought it was supposed to be a scarf or a glove or something."

Coulson runs the thin white cord through his hands. "The token is supposed to be something of value," he says, spooling it up. "Something the lady will miss."

Steve takes it from him. "And she'll miss this?"

Coulson looks at the earbuds. "Greatly."


	26. The Big Reveal - Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [digitalantibiotics](http://digitalantibiotics.tumblr.com): _I’d really love some domestic Clint/Coulson or better yet some coming out/announcing their relationship slash_

Phil refused hallway sex in Stark Tower. He refused dry humping on a quinjet. He refused a blowjob in the conference room. He refused sex on the Helicarrier at all, even in private, which sucked because they were there really a lot.

"God _dammit_ , Coulson," Clint said, through his teeth, zipping up his pants after Phil pushed him away in the elevator. "Fucking work with me here."

"Barton," Phil said disapprovingly. "It can't happen. It can't happen one single time, because if we ever do, that will be the exact moment we get caught. Murphy's Law is a close friend of ours."

"Would it be so bad?" Clint says, finally snapping. "Would it be so fucking bad if somebody knew?"

Phil stops, frowning at him. "Is that what this is about?"

"No," Clint says quickly.

"I've told you about talking to me," Phil says, pulling Clint in by his waistband.

"Wait, what?" Clint says.

"If you wanted people to know, you could have told me," he says, grinding against him.

"I don't want people thinking we just fuck," Clint says, pressing his luck.

"Baby steps," Phil says, kissing him.

Clint gives him a look. "Fucking in an elevator is 'baby steps'?"

"Shut up, Barton," Phil says, leaning in again, and Clint does.


	27. Nowhere Road - Phil/Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [jezibelle](http://ao3.org/users/jezibelle): Capsicoul based on Nowhere Road by Fastball. (I may or may not have ignored most of this request.)

He's tired. It's been that kind of day; it's been that kind of week; it's been that way since he was unfrozen, if he wants to be perfectly honest. It's worthless, working so hard for people who don't appreciate it, who fight against him as much as they fight against each other.

That's not true. Steve can't let it be. It just feels like that some bad days. Unfortunately, there are those bad days, and they might never go away.

He gets to the apartment, and Phil is already there. He takes a look at Steve's face and takes him to the couch, sitting him down and making him lean back against the arm. He sits on the other end, putting Steve's feet in his lap, pulling off his shoes and socks. Steve's feet aren't actually tired, but that doesn't mean it doesn't feel good when Phil rubs them. He moves his hands up to Steve's calves, and Steve knows how this is going to go, how Phil is going to move up his entire body, all the way up until Phil's fingers are in his hair. Phil is calm and predictable, steady and true; he's one of the most dangerous people Steve knows, but Phil Coulson is a good man. It's such a cliche, Phil knows Steve probably better than Steve does, always knows how to comfort him, defuse him.

Steve turns over, encouraging him, and Phil presses a kiss to his thigh. Maybe it's not really as bad as Steve thinks; maybe he's not going nowhere, as long as there are people like Phil who need him.


	28. Say What You Want - Tony/Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [jezibelle](http://ao3.org/users/jezibelle): _Bruce/Tony, someone who thought it was a bad idea comes around._

"I once slept with seven people in one fourteen hour period," Tony says, turning a chair around and setting it down in front of Bruce; he puts his hands on the back and leans in, looking at him hard.

Bruce blinks at him, which is Bruce's usual response to Tony. "Was that individuals, or were there multiple people involved?"

"Two individuals, a threesome, and whatever three-on-one is, other than fantastic," Tony clarifies.

"What did you do for the rest of the day?" Bruce asks.

"I slept," Tony says. "Look, that's not the important part. The important part is that I will fuck anything that moves."

"I'd figured that out on my own," Bruce says.

"See? It's not a secret," Tony says. "It will never be a secret, because I won't stop doing it."

"No one is asking you to," Bruce tells him, "and no one would be surprised if you didn't."

"I don't remember birthdays," Tony says, trying a different tack. "Watch this. I've known Pepper for- JARVIS, how long have I known Pepper?"

"Just under ten years, sir," JARVIS replies.

"Ten years. I think her birthday is." Tony shuts one eye, concentrating. "July 14. JARVIS?"

"Miss Potts's birthday is February 2," JARVIS says. "July 14 is Bastille Day."

"There we go," Tony says. "I can't even get Bastille Day right."

"You can't remember Pepper's birthday because she doesn't care if you remember it," Bruce says. "If she wanted you to celebrate anybody else's birthday, she'd make you sign a card, you'd realize what day it was, and you'd throw a crazy party." Bruce gives him a look. "I already told her not to tell you when my birthday is."

Tony glares at him, the way he always does when he's trying to figure Bruce out. "I can't cook."

"I've seen the carnage," Bruce says. "That's why your chef delivers meals."

"You don't scare easily, do you?" Tony sighs.

Bruce raises his eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure that was the first thing you ever learned about me."

"Doctor Banner, the autoclave has finished its cycle," JARVIS says.

"Thank you, JARVIS," Bruce says. "I'd appreciate if you'd come around to what you're trying to say," he tells Tony. "I was trying to get-"

"For fuck's sake," Tony says, over the end of his sentence. He grabs Bruce by the shirt and hauls him in, kissing him in frustration. When they part, Bruce looks at him for a long while; then he pulls Tony back and kisses him again.

"What made you change your mind?" Bruce asks.

"Does it matter?" Tony says.

"That depends on what the reason was," Bruce tells him.

"I haven't fucked anyone in ten days," Tony says. "Your birthday is April 9. I cut myself in three places trying to make a salad."

Bruce frowns. "How did you manage to do that?"

"Broccoli is a menace," he says. "That's all I had to say. Actually, that's not what I was trying to say at all, because I was trying to talk you out of it. But here we are." Tony waves a hand at him. "Go and do whatever it is that's sterile. We'll catch up later."

Bruce walks around, pulling Tony out of the chair. "No, we won't," Bruce says, marching him towards the door.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Tony asks.

"You had your say," Bruce tells him. "I think we're done talking."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," Tony replies, as Bruce drags him away.


	29. Strut - Tony/Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [theleaveswant](http://ao3.org/users/theleaveswant): _Tony taught Pepper how to walk in high heels_

"If you wear flats to one more important event, you're fired," Tony tells her.

"You can't fire me," Pepper says, unconcerned, because Tony says this to her at least twice a week. "Mister Stane pays my salary. I'm certain he has no opinions about my footwear."

"That's because he just hasn't noticed yet," he says, blocking her from leaving. "What size do you wear? Six? Seven?"

"Mister Stark-"

"It's Tony, and don't worry, I'll just buy one of everything."

Pepper sighs, frustrated. She already has the distinct sense that there's no getting out of this one; there are some areas where she has to put her foot down so that chaos doesn't consume the entire house, but there are others where it's better to let Tony have his own way, so that he doesn't cause more destruction out of sheer spite.

So she ends up sitting on the end of Tony's bed; this is probably a terrible mistake, but the bedroom's the only place with a full length mirror. He's unboxing shoe after shoe, holding them up to her foot and muttering to himself, before he finally settles on one. The shoes are black, kind of boring, but they've got red soles, which is interesting.

"God, these are terrible," he says, unzipping her shoes and tossing them over his shoulder. "Did you buy these are Payless?"

"Tony, those are hundred dollar shoes," she says unhappily.

"So, DSW, then," Tony says. "Which might be worse." He carefully slips the heels onto her feet; they fit well, but she can already tell they're going to be uncomfortable. He examines his handiwork critically, slipping a finger in between the shoe and her skin; she can't decide yet whether her employer has an unforeseen foot fetish, but they're not quite at that level so far.

Tony gets to his feet, holding out his hands. "Stand up for me," he says, nudging the shoe boxes out of the way to give her space.

She gingerly puts her feet on the floor, lifts herself off the bed- and immediately overbalances, all but throwing herself into Tony's arms. "Maybe four inches was a mistake," she says.

"I have no end of things to say about that," Tony says, "but it's sink or swim, Potts. You're not going to run around here in kitten heels and act like that's good enough." He finally lets her go, guiding her until she's standing straight. "If you lock your knees you're going to fall over again." He points at the mirror. "Walk from here to there."

"Mister Stark, I'm barely staying upright," Pepper says. 

"Staying upright is step one," Tony tells her. "Now walk."

Pepper sighs in annoyance; she's very aware that the faster she can do this to Tony's satisfaction, the faster she can get back to doing something important. She teeters her way through it, picking up her feet and putting them down with careful consideration. The shoes feel heavier than she's used to, on top of everything else that's wrong with them, and the only way out of it seems to be to go as slowly as possible.

She turns when she gets to the end, expecting to look back and see Tony laughing at her, but he's just looking, considering. "You look like a baby goat," he says.

It's faster when she walks back, but it still feels like hell. "I'm going," she says, but Tony catches her before she sits down again. 

"See how it's easier when you're walking with a purpose?" he says, gesturing downwards. She's at least three inches taller than him in these shoes, and it makes it much more satisfying to loom over him and frown, but Tony doesn't seem perturbed. "Go on, sit down. We're not getting through this without an object lesson, I can already tell."

Pepper has no idea what he means by that, but she sits down on the bed, looking at him curiously. He walks to the closet, stepping in and looking for something on the top shelf. When he comes back, he's got another pair of heels, ones that must be six inches at least; she's about to protest when he sits down beside her, taking off his shoes and socks and putting the heels on. He stands up, his hand brushing her shoulder as he walks by, walking to the mirror and back just like a catwalk model, one foot in front of the other so that his hips sway just so.

"It's just physics," Tony says, turning and doing it again. "Taking small steps, carrying your weight in the right place. Don't try to be sexy or fancy about it." He looks her up and down, grinning. "In those, you're sexy enough." She's sort of dumbfounded, and he takes advantage of her situation to pull her up into his arms again. "Follow me," he says, standing beside her and putting his hand in hers. He walks slowly forward, tugging at her hand until she gets the picture, mimicking him carefully. "You're getting closer. You just need lots of practice."

"Do you mean for me to spend all my time in your bedroom in high heels?" she says, and the instant she says it she knows it was the wrong thing.

Tony's eyebrows go up, and a dirty grin breaks out on his face. "I mean for you to spend time in them at work for practice," he says. "I mean for you to spend all your time in my bedroom for completely different reasons." She just sighs and rolls her eyes, and Tony frowns. "You didn't run out of the room in horror."

"I couldn't run if I wanted to," she points out. 

"You didn't slap me either," he says.

"Is that all, Mister Stark?" she asks.

Tony looks at her searchingly. "Do you want to sleep with me, or are you just totally over my advances now?"

"Yes," she says, walking out- very slowly and very carefully- on him.

"That one's a keeper," Tony says to himself, gathering up the shoes and putting them away.


	30. Possession - Phil/Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [squireofgeekdom](http://squireofgeekdom.tumblr.com): _I don’t know if you’ve seen angel!avengers art, but I would love to see Capsicoul in that universe. BAMF!Phil is always a bonus. :)_
> 
> Based on [this fine art of the Avengers as avenging angels](http://azriels.tumblr.com/post/24454223838/the-avengers-as-avenging-angels).

"Who is it this time?" Michael says, unfolding his wings carefully, since they're finally alone.

"Phillip," Raguel tells him, shrugging out of his suit jacket. "Phil. Coulson. An agent assigned to SHIELD." Raguel smiles. "He's a big fan of yours."

Michael takes him into his arms. "That shouldn't be too hard to mimic," he says, and Raguel laughs at him. "Be careful," Michael says, kissing the top of his head. "Lucifer kills you at least once a century."

"Don't I know it," Raguel sighs. "How long until the attack begins?" 

"Three days," Michael tells him.

"Instants. Eyeblinks. Seconds," Raguel says, punctuating his words with kisses.

Michael smiles at him fondly. "All the time in the world."


	31. Televised - Phil/Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [justicemuffins](http://ao3.org/users/justicemuffins): _Capsicoul; Steve’s under pressure from the media to back a presidential candidate, after a rough week of this Phil helps him de-stress._

"The most important thing that we have as Americans is freedom," Steve's voice says on the TV. Phil knows there's a teleprompter in front of him, because Steve keeps looking toward it and frowning; he also knows Steve has gone completely off-card, because his publicist is inching closer, getting ready to pull him. "We have the freedom to live how we choose, freedom to pray how we choose, and, yes, freedom to vote how we choose. Voting is one of our most important rights as citizens. Every last one of us has the responsibility to do it, even when slanderous politics and unfair regulations make the prospect seem dark. Now, I know who I'm going to cast my vote for in November, folks, but there's a reason the voting booth is private. It's private so that we can all do what we believe is right, without any fear or judgment. Thank you."

There's clamor from reporters, but the door to the apartment opens and Phil shuts off the TV. Steve comes in still wearing his uniform, and he looks completely wiped out; Phil comes and meets him, and Steve all but falls into his arms- a dangerous proposition when Steve is several inches taller and many pounds heavier than him.

"Go and take a shower," Phil tells him, kissing him softly, and Steve nods, plodding off towards the bathroom.

Phil's not entirely sure Steve's not just going to fall asleep in the tub, but he goes to the kitchen anyway, taking down a pot and pouring milk into it, heating it gently before shaking plenty of the spicy cocoa mix into it and stirring. He pours the chocolate into two mugs, adding a whole handful of little marshmallows to Steve's cup before sprinkling a few into his own.

He takes the mugs back to the couch, setting them down on the coffee table and grabbing the remotes for the TV, turning on Netflix and flipping through their queue. They stopped halfway through an episode of My Fair Wedding, and that seems as good a place to start as any, something comforting and simple, something to talk over, to fall asleep in front of.

Steve comes back out, wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants. He perks up at the scent of cocoa, coming and sitting down next to Phil. He picks up his hot chocolate and sips at it carefully; he's got marshmallow fluff all over his lips when he pulls away, and he quickly licks them when he sees Phil smiling at him. 

Phil leans back against the arm of the couch, and Steve puts down his cocoa for a moment so Phil can move him, arranging them so that Steve's back is flush with his front, so Phil can put his arms around him. Steve rests his head on Phil's chest, shutting his eyes. On the TV, David Tutera is talking about bridesmaids' dresses, but Phil isn't paying attention. He's paying attention to the damp strands of Steve's hair, the ragged rhythm of Steve's breathing.

"You did good," Phil says.

"I don't mind being a symbol," Steve says, "but I'm not going to be anybody's trophy."

Phil cards his hand through Steve's hair. "You don't have to be," he says.

"I know," Steve says, letting out a sigh. "It's just hard, is all."

"Don't worry about any of that now," Phil tells him. "Let's not even talk about it. You need to rest." Steve just nods, cuddling closer to him, letting Phil hold him tighter.

On the TV, everybody's dream comes true.

On the couch, they fall asleep, hoping for the best.


	32. We Don't Need No Water - Phil/Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [nausiwindstrider](http://nausiwindstrider.tumblr.com): _Capsicoul trolled by JARVIS_

"Right here?" Steve says, as Phil falls back against the wall and tugs him close.

"Right here," Phil tells him, pulling him down and kissing him. Steve doesn't protest much, stepping in so that he can get his thigh in between Phil's. Phil's a full-grown man, but Steve is Steve, and it'd be so easy just to pick Phil up and settle Phil's legs around his waist. He doesn't want to make a scene, but this hallway is deserted, half-dark, and Phil is biting at his shoulder, and maybe it's not such a bad-

Stark Tower better have something else for fires, because the sad little sprinkler that opens up over their heads is pretty pathetic. "JARVIS," Steve says, sighing, as he steps away from Phil. "There's been a malfunction."

"Operations are normal, Captain Rogers," JARVIS says calmly. "It has always been within my programming to engage the fire suppression system when things become too hot."

Phil puts a hand over his face. "Everything would be so much smoother if I could just kill Stark."

Steve looks up at the sprinkler, thinking. He pushes Phil gently back against the wall again. "It's fine, JARVIS," Steve says, smiling. "Kissing in the rain is very romantic."

"Old fashioned," Phil murmurs, pressing their lips together again.

The foam jets are much less pleasing.


	33. Concession - Clint/Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [allthatihavemet](http://allthatihavemet.tumblr.com): _Clint/Darcy, working at an amusement park_

She doesn’t take her earbuds out the entire time Clint is helping her, so that Clint has to shout, which is extra fun when the cotton candy machine is on and he’s half-deaf anyway. The little kid that’s with her- brother?- immediately starts trying to unlatch the door to Clint’s stand, and she snatches him back just in the nick of time. She buys him overpriced sugar-air anyway, thrusting it into his hands and watching as he runs away with it.

She looks at Clint and shrugs, like it was inevitable, like she’s in no hurry to get him back. She takes a considering look at Clint, sizing him up. She writes down her number on a napkin and puts it on his counter, weighing it down with seventy-five cents, and then she just walks away.

He takes the napkin and shoves it into his pocket. The weirdest-ass people come to this place.


	34. Fright Night - Steve/Bucky, Tony/Pepper, Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [cleareyesfullheartscantlosee](http://cleareyesfullheartscantlosee.tumblr.com): _The Avengers try a triple date ClintCoulson/Stucky/Pepperony. As the night goes along it gets a lot more crowded… and insane._

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page as to what’s going on,” Phil says, leaning over the table and looking at Pepper. 

“Your husband is on the dance floor with my- my Tony,” Pepper says. “I feel like it’s important that there wasn’t a dance floor there fifteen minutes ago.”

“Noted,” Phil says. 

“I’m not exactly sure what Tony said, but Bucky just dragged Steve into the parking lot,” she continues.

“For jealousy sex in the car,” Phil says.

“Probably for jealousy sex in the car,” Pepper agrees, pulling out her cell phone and tapping in a message. “I’m having them send a new car.”

“It’s for the best,” Phil says.

“And Thor is-” Pepper starts, and Thor looks up from his mussels, which he’s eating with surprising delicacy. “How are you doing, Thor?”

“These little rock slugs are delicious,” he says, through a mouthful.

“He’s fine,” Pepper says.

“But what is he doing here?” Phil says.

“I heard there was feasting and merriment,” Thor says, unconcerned. “I have not been disappointed.” He snags a passing waiter. “May I have more of this drink?” he asks politely.

“That’s our status,” Pepper tells him. “And if you can tell me why Natasha Romanov just terrified the hostesses and walked in, we can update it.”


	35. Power - Phil/Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [kitrazzle](http://ao3.org/users/kitrazzle): _Darcy/Steve/Phil in the continuing Magic AU because of AWESOME. Kingly Steve + time traveling magician adviser Phil + apparently also time traveling Darcy who evidently REALLY likes Steve? So made of win. I want to know EVERYTHING about this AU. Clint = Huntsman? Natasha = spy/assassin on Phil's payroll? Bruce = alchemist/physician hiding from a tyrant? I wanna knooooooow!!_
> 
> Follows on from [this chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/488998/chapters/941443) and [this one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/488998/chapters/942396). What is this I don't even.

"This isn't right," Steve moans, just because he likes to hear it said, gets off on the forbidden nature of it. "Oh, please don't, we _can't_ -"

"Of course we can," Phil says, kissing his jaw, his throat, his chest, his stomach, making his way downwards. His skin smells like rosemary and sage- Phil was delighted to learn he was wrong about medieval bathing practices- and he jumps when Phil gently bites him.

Steve is ready, yearning for his touch, and Phil wants him just as badly. He stands at Steve's side all day, waiting patiently, listening to his edicts, providing counsel; he's not a man given to boredom, but after six or seven hours of this, he tends to spend his time thinking about the fastest way he could drag Steve away and tear his clothes off.

He traces his hands up Steve's thighs, pushing them a little wider. He looks up at Steve and smiles; Steve looks like a mess, wide-eyed and disbelieving even though they've done this dozens of times. Phil sighs, knowing Steve can feel it, and Steve gasps.

And then the door opens.

Phil's not an actual sorcerer and can't make himself disappear; he's just gotten really good at hiding behind drapes and under beds when people knock at the door, which is really very rare. But there's no knock; the door just opens, and Phil does exactly the same thing that everybody does, which is completely the wrong thing, which is to freeze in place, despite the fact that he's got his bare ass pointed at the door and his mouth two inches from Steve's dick.

"L-lady Darcy," Steve stammers, and Phil wishes the earth would open up and swallow him with all due haste. "We were just-"

"You were fucking," Darcy says, apparently unconcerned. She shuts the door behind her. "Do you know how many guards I had to go through to get in here?"

"Six," Phil says.

"Eight," she says. "One set was changing as I passed. I had to bring you an urgent message, by the way, so you'd better start figuring out what it said." 

When he feels like talking, Phil is generally good with words, but right now he's got fuck-all; Steve may be even worse off, because he's just looking at Phil in panic. "What are you _doing_ in here?" Phil finally manages to say, turning to look at her.

"The music box won't play anymore," she says, handing him the iPod he'd given her. "It flashed an arcane symbol, then it stopped working."

Phil rubs his forehead. "I'll fix it," he promises, setting it down on the bed. "Why in the hell did you look for me in here?"

Darcy looks at him like he's an idiot, which is exactly what he feels like right now. "Where else would I look?"

"You can't tell anyone," Steve says desperately, finally having regained his voice. "Please, my lady, if anyone knew-"

"Why would I tell anybody?" she says. "You-" she points at Phil- "would get killed or exiled or something, and you, well, all that right makes might stuff wouldn't look so good." She sits down on the bench on the other side of the room. "And I wouldn't get to watch."

Phil looks back at Steve, and his eyes are the size of dinner plates. "You _what_?" Steve sputters.

"I want to watch," Darcy says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Is this blackmail?" Phil says, indignant, and Darcy gives him kind of a blank look. "Are you going to hold this over us to get what you want?"

"I just said I wanted to see," Darcy says, pouting. "Why are you being such an ass about it?"

"I do not even have time to explain the reasons to you," Phil tells her.

"I'm not going to _tell_ anybody," Darcy says, like it's obvious. "They're either going to do horrible things to you, or they're going to want to watch too. Why would I tell?" She sits back. "Now kiss."

Phil just blinks at her for a long time.

"That's not what I was about to do," he says finally.

"I didn't say where," Darcy replies.


	36. Awake and Alive - Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because COULSON LIVES.

Clint, of course, has an uncanny ability to stay in one place for incredibly long periods of time. Officially, he has no superhuman abilities, but Coulson's not sure it shouldn't count, the way he can just sit and sit and sit, sometimes in ridiculous positions, for hours on end. Clint's closer to forty than thirty, and yet his joints never complain, his body never quits. Coulson doesn't have a hope of coming anywhere near him; he may be closer to fifty than forty, but he's confident that he never could.

So Coulson is sitting in his big comfortable desk chair, but his back is starting to complain anyway. Clint is sitting across the way on Coulson's busted-ass couch, possibly on top of a spring; he's sitting cross-legged with his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together and propping up his chin. He's been sitting there for an hour, maybe an hour and a half, maybe longer, and he isn't moving, not at all, not even shifting, not except for the rise and fall of his chest.

It's odd for a while, as he waits for Clint to say something; then he forgets Clint is there for a while; then it gets unsettling; then it's downright creepy. "What?" Coulson says finally, putting his tablet aside, when he can take it no longer.

"I'm glad you're alive," Clint says.

Coulson frowns in confusion. The most dangerous thing he's done in a month is that time he got stuck in between Hill and the coffeemaker. "I'm glad I'm alive too," he says slowly. "What brought this on?"

Clint shrugs. "Do I need a reason to want you to be alive?"

"I guess not," Coulson says. "It's just strange. There's nothing remarkable about me being alive."

"Don't you ever say that," Clint snaps, sitting up.

"That's not what I meant," Coulson says, holding up a hand. "Being alive is my default state right now. If something threatens that, then measures will be taken." He smirks. "I imagine being dead is boring."

"I don't want you to find out," Clint says.

Coulson looks at him. "When was the last time you slept?"

"It's not important," Clint says.

"I know that one," Coulson says, logging off his computer. He stands up, taking his suit jacket off its hook and pulling it on. "That means it's been too long."

"I'm fine," Clint protests, as Coulson puts a hand on his arm and pulls him up. Clint catches him by the wrist suddenly, looking into his eyes. "I need you to promise me something," he says fervently. "If I go to sleep, I need you to promise me you'll still be alive when I wake up."

"Clint," he says gently. "I can't promise you anything, so I won't." Clint opens his mouth to speak, looking betrayed, but Coulson beats him to the punch. "I can promise you I'll do everything in my power to stay alive as long as I can."

Clint jerks him forward, kissing him hard. "You damn well better."

Coulson puts his arms around him, stroking his back comfortingly. "You need sleep. You needed sleep about twelve hours ago."

"Come with me," Clint says.

"If I wasn't going to, I'd have had you removed by now," Coulson tells him.

"You say the sweetest things," Clint tells him.

"Come on," Phil says. "Let's go to bed. With any luck, I'll still be alive when you wake up."


	37. visit you round midnight - Tony/Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Iron Man 3 trailer.

"Tony," Pepper is saying, and by the time Tony gasps awake, she's shaking him pretty hard. "Tony, it's okay, everything is okay, you're safe."

It doesn't feel safe or okay; he's sweating and shaking, the dream clinging to him even when he sits up, looking around their dark, quiet bedroom. He shakes his head, trying to get the nightmare out, and it fades by degrees, too slowly. "Sorry I woke you up," Tony mutters, suddenly aware of his surroundings, what's going on.

"Lay down," Pepper says, pulling him down onto the mattress. He told her about the nightmares, only person he's ever told, how they started after the cave; they've only gotten worse over the years, but they've ramped up lately, fast enough that it's starting to frighten him. He told her she didn't have to sleep in the same bed, might have tried to goad her into having her own bedroom, but she didn't listen. Now, just like every time, she lays him down and hugs him to her chest, holding him tight. She feels like an anchor, a weight, something to keep him from losing contact entirely; he doesn't know how to thank her for that.

It's bad this time, maybe the worst it's ever been. She's not saying anything out loud; her hands are saying it for her, the way she strokes his hair, his face. He's trying very hard to get it back together and keep it that way, but he can tell that it's not working, not this time.

Pepper kisses the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. "A tree grows in my backyard," she sings, surprising him, "only grows at night, branches are all twisted, leaves are afraid of light." Her voice is a little breathy, not quite hitting the melody in every place, but that doesn't matter. He shuts his eyes; sleep doesn't come closer, but the music slides smoothly over him, calming him. "They say the blues is just a bad dream, they say it lives up 'side your head." She runs her fingers through his hair, kissing it gently; he can feel his tension starting to fade out, his muscles relaxing. "But when it's lonely in the morning, you're bound to wish that you was lying dead," she sings, and he almost feels like himself again, like he could be something roughly approximating a fully functional Tony Stark at some point in the near future.

Tony rolls over, looking at her. "I wake up from a nightmare and this is what you sing to me? Creepy blues songs?"

"It's a James Taylor song," she protests, even as she smiles, looking relieved. "Nothing he does counts as blues."

Tony narrows his eyes at her. "I wake up from a nightmare and you sing me James Taylor?"

She rolls her eyes, turning over. "Go to sleep, Tony."

"No, no, wait, you were doing good," he says, pulling her back towards him. "Just no creepy James Taylor songs."

She settles her arm around his waist again. "Many's the time I've been mistaken," she starts, "and many times confused-"

"Not that either," Tony says. "It's a little much for the middle of the night." She sighs. "No more interruptions, I know, shh Tony shh."

Tony thinks for a moment that she's not going to continue, that she's had enough of him for the moment, but then she starts to sing again, a little softer, but strong. "I was in another lifetime, one of toil and blood, when blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud," she sings, and Tony doesn't interrupt this time, even though she's really not grasping the light and soothing thing very well. "I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form, 'Come in' she said, 'I'll give you shelter from the storm.'"

He shuts his eyes, relaxing against her; he knows how this one goes, where it leads. It feels safe and familiar, the rhythm of the words, the vibrations of her voice moving through his chest. She's not going to let him go, no matter what happens, not going to leave him defenseless and alone.

He shuts his eyes and doesn't dream; she's still holding onto him in the morning.


	38. Smartphone - Phil/Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [mistymay](http://mistymay.tumblr.com): _capsicoul first time sexting_

whr r u r u alone

At home, thinking about going to bed

ok, wnted 2 say gnight 2 u bb <3

Steve, you know I can't read it when you do that. I don't care how fast it is.

sry. I type so slow, hate this phone

That's better, thanks. Love you too

You alone? If you're not asleep, I have a question

?

Tony was saying that sometimes people send each other these messages

...please don't tell me Stark told you about sexting.

He said something about it, yeah

Are you trying to tell me you want me to send you dirty text messages?

No, was just thinking about it, that's it  
Never mind

Because we can do that if you want. I'll show you how to delete messages

Really??

Am I supposed to have a problem with telling you how badly I want to suck your cock?  
Would you like that? Do you want me on my knees with your cock in my mouth?  
Or should I bend you over my desk and fuck you until you can't see straight?  
Steve?  
Are you there?

dropped phone screen cracked coming over

I'll be waiting. <3


	39. Practice Makes - Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [brassmama](http://brassmama.tumblr.com): _Clint gets off on using the bow and Phil doesn’t mind helping the archer out. Side of tie porn?_
> 
> Only a tiny bit of tie, but these things happen.

Phil has pinpointed the moment it ceases to be practice. For the first portion of it, it really is important; Clint needs to keep his skills honed to a razor-thin edge. Phil understands very clearly what it's like to be a normal human surrounded by people who aren't, the pressure of it, the sheer bloody-mindedness it takes to keep going. Clint has nothing but a highly developed sense of targeting and timing, and it needs to stay that way.

But then something changes, something in his stance, the whole thing becoming almost imperceptibly looser. He takes longer to draw his bow, to loose his arrows; he gets lost in it, in the feel of his muscles stretching, the lines of his body, the way the weapon takes him over, requires his whole body. His thumb brushes across his cheek as he draws, and he shuts his eyes, savoring the sensation.

That's Phil's cue. "Barton," he says, when he's well away and still behind cover.

"Sir," Clint says, not looking at him, nocking another arrow and slowly shooting.

"I need your assistance," he says, just in case anyone overhears, and Clint smirks.

"Any time, agent," Clint says. Cleanup can wait, at least for long enough for what Phil wants.

Clint has his own section in the armory; it's small, but there's more than enough space for two or three people. Phil leads him in, turning so he can work the internal keypad and lock the door behind him. This is a critical error, because it gives Clint plenty of opportunity to grab him by the waist and drag him close, grinding against his ass. "Wait until I at least get the door shut," Phil says quietly, but Clint doesn't listen, busy sucking a line of wet kisses along Phil's collar.

When the door finally slides into place, Phil doesn't hesitate, taking Clint by the shoulders and backing him up against it. Clint is smiling, wide and excited, with that tension underneath it that Phil knows so well. He grabs Phil's tie, pulling him in and kissing him, hard and a little sloppy, like he's too excited for finesse.

"You looked good out there," Phil tells him, reaching down and unbuttoning Clint's pants, unzipping them and pushing them out of the way. He's fully hard, and he moans as Phil drops to his knees, sliding his mouth down around Clint's cock, working his head as he sucks. Phil's sure that, at least for the time surrounding practice, Clint counts himself as the luckiest son of a bitch alive, and he is not, in Phil's opinion, wrong.

Hardly any time passes before Clint is gripping the back of his head, letting out soft cries as he comes down Phil's throat. He goes loose and lax, leaning heavily back against the door, and Phil thinks this might be his favorite way to see Clint, all the tension gone, replaced by nothing but sated bliss. He stands up, stepping in close and putting his hands on Clint's hips, kissing him softly as he comes down.

It's a long time before Clint opens his eyes, smirking at Phil. "Let me get that for you," he says, his hand sneaking down and cupping Phil's hard cock. He sinks to the floor, and Phil doesn't do a single thing to stop him. Clint's not the only one who gets off on archery. To be more specific, Phil gets off on archers; to be more specific than that, Phil gets off on an archer, the one who's presently grinning up at him as he unbuckles Phil's belt.

Phil's going to schedule him for more range time. Everyone could benefit.


	40. Well - Phil/Steve, Tony/Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [nausiwindstrider](http://nausiwindstrider.tumblr.com): _walking in on each other. Science Boyfriends somehow stumble on Capsicoul_

"It can't be public sex in a building I own," Tony said, his hand on Bruce's wrist as he dragged him towards the stairwell. "This building isn't even open to the public."

"Will you keep your voice down?" Bruce said.

"What?" Tony replied. "It's not like I'm screaming, 'Hey guys, we're off to defile the only place in the building we haven't done it yet.'"

Bruce just shook his head and let himself be led on, aware that this was a fight he wasn't going to win. When they got to the boringly code-compliant stairs, Tony pushed the crash bar and shoved the door open, waving Bruce in. Bruce turned back to say something to Tony, but Tony was staring in shock at something further down the stairs. Confused, Bruce followed his eyeline, and then they were both staring in shock.

Once he could tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him, Bruce looked back at Tony, who nodded, and they carefully crept back into the hallway, shutting the door gently behind them.

"So that happened," Tony said.

"Apparently," Bruce told him.

"I've got to hand it to him, I didn't think Phil was nearly that strong," Tony said.

"No, he had him up on the handrail," Bruce said.

"That would put the angles off," Tony argued. "Cap's heavy, but with his legs up like that, it would be more of an issue of keeping his weight against the wall, not holding it up."

"I just don't think it's possible," Bruce said, shaking his head. "I'm willing to give him a lot of credit, but that's hard even with two people who are roughly the same size, as you well know."

"You drop a guy _one time_ , and you never hear the end of it as long as you live."

Neither of them heard the sound of the door opening again, too distracted by bickering to notice their persons of interest slipping past them.

Everyone on this team really needed a refresher on their stealth training.


	41. Unlisted - Phil/Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [classyshippingblog](http://classyshippingblog.tumblr.com): _capsicoul: Phil organizes everything by lists. This includes kinks._

To say that Phil Coulson is a careful man is a fabulous understatement. He's been known to throw caution to the wind and make snap decisions in the heat of battle, but that's not the same thing as not being a planner. His lists have lists, and he sees this as a definite feature, not a bug.

In the digital age, the great irony is that the best way not to leave a paper trail is to write things on actual paper. To that end, Phil has a sheet of yellow legal paper and a felt desk blotter; he's using them for this specific list because it can't just go into Excel or FreeMind with the groceries, has to be more carefully guarded than that.

He's taken it out of his locked drawer to make a few revisions, cross some things out and move them around. He's sitting there puzzling over a few items when he makes a truly critical error; it's just that he's thirsty and there's no one else in the house, and there's a nice cold soda waiting for him two rooms away.

And just as he opens the fridge, he hears the front door, and he knows precisely what is about to happen. He races to the office, hoping Steve hasn't gotten there yet; his hopes are, of course, in vain. Steve is there, looking at the list in question with a quizzical frown on his face. Phil has the wildest urge to shout, 'It's not mine,' but he suspects that would only make things worse.

"What's 'snowballing'?" Steve asks.

"Excuse me?" Phil says; he heard what Steve said, but processing the idea that _Steve Rogers_ just said it is a little harder.

"'Snowballing'," Steve says again. "It's on here in the 'Done' column, but I don't know what it is." Phil is completely unable to talk. "This is us, right?" Steve holds up the list. "I mean, I recognize it."

"That's-" Phil starts, but he doesn't know what comes after that. He thinks he was about to say, 'That's private,' but it isn't, not really, not when it's mostly about Steve. He has no idea how to answer Steve's question; he's got no problem with frankly and maturely discussing sex, but this is something different, something appealing because it's dirty, something not really meant to be talked about in the light of day. 

It does not help at _all_ that he is trying to explain this to his boyhood hero.

"It's when," Phil starts, "when you give someone a blowjob and he-" Phil makes a hand motion, trying to get the words out- "releases in your mouth, and then you, uh, share it with him."

Steve looks at him for a minute. "So when you swap come."

Phil's brain turns itself inside-out. "That's a faster way to say it, yes."

"Huh," Steve says, looking at the list again. "I didn't know that had a name."

"You weren't supposed to see that," Phil says, by way of apology, and he resists tearing it out of Steve's hands, setting it on fire, and throwing it out the window.

"Why is it in stages?" Steve asks. "I mean, I know what some of the stuff from Stage 3 is."

"We can't be having this conversation," Phil says, putting his fingers to his forehead.

Steve looks up at him. "Why not?" he asks, and Phil doesn't have a good answer for that, other than the fact that it's completely mortifying. "Some of this stuff needs to go. I don't want to get near a riding crop, and if strappado is what I think it is, I'm not doing it."

"You of course have a line-item veto," Phil says quickly. "But I thought we'd just talk about things as they came up. Doing it all at once can be." He swallows. "Daunting."

Steve purses his lips. "Phil," he says, sounding a little frustrated, "I know I may not be the most experienced guy in the world, but I'm an adult, and I can talk about adult things."

Phil shuts his eyes for a moment, sighing. "It's not for you," he says. "It's for me." Steve frowns at him. "Do you really think it's easy to walk up to someone you've barely gotten to know sexually and say, 'So, can I tie you up and cane you this weekend?'"

"Seems pretty straightforward to me," Steve says.

"You're a braver man than I am," Phil says. He shakes his head. "It's a lot safer to go a little bit at a time, so that no one gets scared."

Steve puts the list back down on the desk, walking over and putting his hands on Phil's shoulders. "If you want to do something, then ask me for it. I may not like the idea, but worst I can do is say no."

"It can be a lot worse than that, trust me," Phil says.

"Then let's compromise," Steve tells him, squeezing his shoulders. "We'll look at the list and cross off anything that's completely out. Then when you want to ask for something, you'll at least know I'm open to the idea."

Phil's still skeptical, but he nods. "We can do that."

"Good," Steve says, grabbing one of the chairs by the wall and dragging it over next to Phil's. "So sit down and tell me why hairbrushes are on here."


	42. I'm In Love With a Stripper - Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [carlospena-maslow](http://carlospena-maslow.tumblr.com): Clint/Coulson. Clint goes undercover as a male stripper, Phil is in the front row watching clint in heels flirt w the target

Phil knew Clint was flexible- in a lot of ways, as it happened- but he wasn't quite prepared for the way that he could work a pole, spinning around it like he'd been doing it forever. His set seemed unnecessarily long; it was attractive, sure, but Phil would just as soon not have been there. More accurately, he would just as soon everyone _else_ not been there.

Clint did something complicated and, Phil was pretty sure, physically impossible and ended up upside down on the pole, his ankles hooked around it as he hung there, totally unconcerned. He'd picked precisely the correct spot, right in front of the target. Clint flashed him a wicked smile, saying something to him that Phil couldn't hear, and the target laughed, putting a few bills between Clint's teeth. Clint winked at him, turning and sliding down the pole, ending up on the floor. He got on his knees and threw his head back, and the crowd went wild.

"Let's give it up for Vincent," the DJ said, and there was more cheering. Clint gathered his money and went back behind the curtain, sticking his hand out and wiggling his fingers at the audience.

The target said something to his confederates, undoubtedly something about the Champagne Room, and Phil considered if 'husband in lapdancing danger' was a good enough reason to call the mission. Instead, he took a deep breath and sipped his watered-down drink, waiting for the next dancer to come on.

Next time, he was making Sitwell do this.


	43. Conflict Resolution - Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [shieldhusband85](http://shieldhusband85.tumblr.com): _clint / coulson first time in office but it has to be angry sex_

"Never do that to me again, Coulson," Clint says, slamming the door of the field office shut behind him.

Coulson keeps his eyes on his computer. "I did what I had to do, Barton," he says.

"No, you didn't," Clint snaps. "You did what was fastest, and you left me without ground support."

Coulson looks up at him, and it's clear that, underneath that tight-ass façade, he's plenty pissed too. "If you'd needed ground support, you'd have had it."

"I fucking needed it," Clint says, getting up into Coulson's space. Coulson stands up, not backing away even though Clint's right in his face.

"I'll decide what you need, Barton," Coulson says.

Clint snorts angrily. "Bullshit you will," he says, and he grabs Coulson by the lapels and hauls him in, kissing him hard. He doesn't have another way to express it, the tension and the frustration, how fucking tired he is of tiptoeing and faking innocence. He expects Coulson not to respond; Coulson usually just leaves him alone when he acts out, lets it run its course, but not today. He grabs Clint by the hair and pulls his head back, and Clint moans when he bites him, sucking hard. Clint pulls away from him suddenly, catching him off-guard and shoving him towards the wall. He backs Coulson up against it, kissing him again, hard, and Coulson worries his lower lip with his teeth, pulling at it and sucking it into his mouth.

Clint breaks off again, and before Coulson can react, Clint's got him spun around, facing the wall, Clint pinning his hands on either side of his head. He grinds slowly against Coulson's ass, the friction unbearable even though so many layers of clothing. It's too much; he unzips his fly, pushing his pants down just far enough to get his dick out, stroking it a few times to get it all the way hard.

"If you get come on my pants," Coulson says through his teeth, his hands still pressed against the wall, "I'll have you murdered."

"Sounds like a personal problem," Clint replies, but he pushes Coulson's pants down around his thighs, well out of the way. He spits into his hand, slicking his cock before fitting it between the globes of his ass. It's tight and hot, close enough to the real thing for now, close enough that everybody knows he means business.

He starts to thrust, his cock sliding along Coulson's ass, and Coulson makes a desperate noise, maybe pleasure and maybe pain, Clint doesn't really care. He bites the back of Coulson's neck, right where he knows it'll leave a mark, one that everyone can see. He doesn't care what people think, not at all, not as long as they know that Clint's been here, Clint's fucked him up, Clint's finally done what they've both always intended but danced around for years.

Coulson is bucking back against him now, giving Clint just what he wants; Clint reaches around, taking Coulson's dick into his hand and jerking it quickly. He's got barely any time left, and he just has to make Coulson go off first, prove that Coulson wants this, needs him. He's close, Coulson's almost there, but Clint loses, coming hard onto Coulson's ass. Coulson's not far behind at all, his cock shooting over and over again, marking up the wall.

Clint can't move for a moment, won't; he puts his hands over Coulson's again, holding him. He kisses the back of his neck, soothing the angry red mark that he's left there. "We can't get in the habit of solving work disputes like this," Coulson says, and Clint knows him well enough to hear the humor in that statement.

Clint lets him up. "I got carried away," he says, wiping a little come off Coulson's skin; he leaves a lot more of it, but that's between him and God. Coulson turns, and to Clint's surprise, he kisses Clint gently, putting an arm around his waist. It's definitely not unwelcome, and Clint opens up for it, letting him have what he wants.

"Let's get carried away somewhere else," Coulson tells him. "It's great, but not so great for conflict resolution."

"Can do," Clint says. "Let's talk ground support."

"Have a seat," Coulson tells him, pulling his desk chair back into place and sitting. "And don't put your feet on my desk, Barton."

"Yes, sir," Clint says, smirking. Coulson knows full well that he's going to do it anyway.


	44. Friendly - Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [ralkana](http://ralkana.tumblr.com): _I have a prompt! Clint/Coulson, Coulson & Steve friendship, Clint being jealous of Steve, and Phil very clearly proving to him that his jealousy is unfounded, in any way you might choose (idk, I just really like jealous, insecure Clint). Even if you don't choose mine, I know I'll love whatever you write!_

There's nothing wrong with Phil having friends. Really, there isn't, not at all. Phil doesn't really have friends, outside Clint; Natasha doesn't count, because as close as the three of them are, Natasha doesn't do friends. It's good for him to be socializing with people and having people ask after him. Keeps morale up, or some shit like that.

Clint tells himself this a lot, and it hasn't worked yet.

It's just that Phil's new bestest buddy is Steve Rogers, Captain fucking America, and Clint can see the red, white, and blue stars in Phil's eyes whenever they're together. Clint's moved in stages of wanting to kick Steve's ass. First he wanted to kick Steve's ass for dismissing Phil, acting like he was just another fanboy; then he wanted to kick Steve's ass for showing up late to the party and fawning apologetically all over Phil while he was in the hospital; now he wants to kick Steve's ass for actually liking and respecting him. Clint would never do anything to hurt Phil, never make him miss out on anything he wanted, but in the battle between Phil's happiness and Clint's guard dog tendencies, the happiness is starting to slip in the rankings.

It doesn't get any better when Clint stumbles upon them in the hallway, laughing and talking; Steve has his hand on Phil's arm, and Clint wants to charge in and knock it away, punch him in the face for taking that kind of liberty. Maybe he'd be doing Phil a favor, getting him out of an uncomfortable situation. He'd definitely be doing himself a favor, because he's pretty damn uncomfortable right now.

"We're expecting the new designs to be ready next week," Phil is saying, as Clint walks up behind Steve, still considering clobbering him with something. "I've got some of the mock-ups, they're really something to see."

"Why don't you come have lunch with me, and we'll talk about it," Steve offers, patting Phil's arm as he lets him go.

Phil looks past Steve, catching sight of Clint. "I'm sorry, Captain," he says, stepping away from him. "I'm afraid I've got a prior engagement."

Steve looks over his shoulder, smiling knowingly. "Very important meeting?"

"The utmost importance," Phil tells him.

"I certainly don't want to keep you from it," Steve says. "I'll find you later."

"Of course," he says, nodding, and Steve grins, taking his leave.

"We don't have any plans," Clint says, frowning.

Phil leans over and kisses him on the cheek; from another person this would be a simple, commonplace public display of affection, but coming from Phil Coulson, in the middle of the day, in the middle of SHIELD, it's the equivalent of him running naked down the hall with I LOVE CLINT BARTON painted on his bare ass. "You're always my plan." Clint has nothing to say, no words at all, doesn't know how to do anything but stare. "Come on," Phil says, walking past him. "Fried chicken for lunch today."

It takes Clint another little while to get his brain back online, but he soon follows, just like he's always going to follow Phil, wherever he goes. Maybe he owes Steve an apology; maybe he owes Phil one. Either way, he's going to keep following, because Phil's not going to let him fall behind.


	45. On Call - Bruce/Tony/Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [JeziBelle](http://ao3.org/users/jezibelle).

Pepper is on the phone, drumming boredly on her leg, and she barely reacts when Tony comes in and sits down next to her, other than to bat at his shoulder when he starts kissing her neck, sucking a mark just under her jaw. She looks pleadingly at Bruce, but then Bruce is kneeling in front of her, spreading her knees gently apart. She comes clutching the phone, but she misses not a single beat, all business and class even when the brightest minds in the city are conspiring to take her apart.


	46. Warrior's Reward - Sif/Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [coffeesuperhero](http://ao3.org/users/coffeesuperhero).

It takes a time before Sif fully understands that the Lady Pepper is a fine warrior. She fights her battles other ways, but there is much to respect. She certainly makes love like a warrior, her fingers steady and true as they slide in and out of Sif's cunt, her mouth unrelenting, unwavering. She does not stop her work until Sif pushes her away, overtaxed and so satisfied. A warrior deserves a warrior's reward, so Sif pushes her onto her back and shows her what she has won.


	47. Watch - Pepper/Tony/Rhodey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [coffeesuperhero](http://ao3.org/users/coffeesuperhero) at the [Look The Other Way Thingathon](http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/436099.html): _Pepper/Rhodey/Tony: god I don't know all of them in a heap, go wild._

Tony wants to move towards them, he wants so badly to touch, but he's frozen in place, kneeling across from them, his hands on his thighs. No one told him to stay, no one ordered him to do a damn thing, but still he doesn't move. He just can't, right now, not when he's watching them, the way they fit together. Pepper is on top, her thighs bracketing Rhodey's; their skin makes a stark- ha- contrast, but it's illusory, unimportant. They're really just the same, the two of them, and the way they move underscores it, perfect sync, back and forth, rolling and slow, wordless, determined, intense.

Tony's got those last two down on a good day. He's willing to give himself that much credit.

"You just want to sit there and watch all night?" Rhodey finally asks, looking around Pepper's shoulder. His voice is a little strangled, like it's incredibly hard to talk, but he doesn't let his face say it, not until Pepper moves just so and he shuts his eyes, biting his lip.

"It's a good view," Tony tells him, still not moving.

"Tony," Pepper says, and her voice has tipped over into that special whine that it only has when she's really turned on. "Come on."

Tony laughs, his voice gone a little low and growly. He finally breaks the spell, crawling over and settling in behind her. He runs his hands over her body, sliding them up to cup her breasts, thumbing her nipples. "Come on where?"

Rhodey laughs, breathless. "You set yourself up for that one, Pep."

Pepper gasps as Tony lowers his mouth to her skin, nibbling at her throat. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you two."

"Worry about we're going to do with you," Tony says into her ear, pulling her back against him. He lets his hand trail down to where she and Rhodey are joined, rubbing slow circles there as he moves in and out of her.

"Worried's not the word," Pepper sighs.

Tony puts a hand on her chin, turning it so he can kiss her mouth. "That's our girl."


	48. Simple - Phil/Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [JeziBelle](http://ao3.org/users/jezibelle) at the [Look The Other Way Thingathon](http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/436099.html), who really just wanted to get Nat laid.

Natasha wants to say something about how it's unexpected, something about how he's generally so mild-mannered, but it's not, he's not. The mask of blandness he wears is even more profound than the ones she puts on, covering him always. Coulson's a creature of violence; he's a dark thing, just like she is, maybe even more so since he comes by it naturally.

It's not angry when he fucks her, not particularly rough. She'd take it, if that's how it was, take it and like it, but they don't need that pretension, don't need to act like their need is so desperate that it overpowers them, making them do something they don't want, something they're ashamed of.

She's not ashamed for a moment as her thighs fall open for him, giving up everything at once. Sometimes he eats her out, but it's only ever a tease, just a way to rev her up even more, drive her out of her mind. He almost never makes her come unless he's inside of her, buried deep, selfish at his core.

Tonight he's got her on her hands and knees. She thinks that's supposed to be degrading, supposed to be an indication of how much they're embarrassed to be fucking each other, too embarrassed to look each other in the eye; Natasha's pretty sure she's doing it because he can push in that much deeper, give her everything, grab her hips and just fuck and fuck and fuck until they're both so satisfied.

She lets her head hang as he thrusts into her, long hard strokes that hit just right; she's noisy and she doesn't care, not at all. Quiet is for the field, for the times they're on missions and she or Phil or Clint or all of them have to get off. When they have the luxury of a little time actually alone- not that Natasha thinks she's had an unwatched moment in her entire life- Natasha swears and shouts and mewls and gives absolutely no fuck about it.

Phil's making noise now too, grunts that escape even when he bites his lip, and Natasha pushes back against him, wanting to hear more, wanting to hear exactly what she's doing to him. It's just right, so good; it's getting to be too good, her orgasm building up too quickly when the last thing she wants is to stop. Of course, that's when Phil gets the bright idea to slide his hand around and play with her clit. "Phil," she whines, "no, not yet."

Phil bites at her earlobe, kissing it in apology after he lets it go. "Yes, now."

She maybe starts to say something else, but it gets swept away when she starts to come, clenching around his cock, her hand fisted in the sheets. It's hard to remember why she wanted to stave this off, why she ever wanted anything else in the world but this moment.

She presses her face into the pillows, her whole body relaxing, and she waits for him to take his turn; it's not like he's a selfish lover or anything, not any more selfish than really good sex requires, but one good turn deserves another, and she's happy to let him do whatever he needs to her to get off, hold her down and fuck her hard and quick, pull out and come on her, whatever.

Except that he doesn't; he just keeps right on moving, slowly at first but picking up speed until they're where they left off. She realizes then that he's not done at all, that they're not anywhere close to stopping. "Sneaky," she says, arching her back.

"When I'm sneaky, you won't know," he tells her, and she laughs, spreading her knees a little wider.


	49. All Wet - Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [ralkana](http://ao3.org/users/ralkana): _Hi! ClintCoulson, halloween costumes. Or ClintCoulson, shower sex._

Phil's doing his very best to keep them upright, because the more he drives Clint out of his mind, the more Clint clings to the wall, his fingers splayed out and scrabbling for purchase. Phil's certainly helping him along, pinning him with his whole body, biting his neck as he drives into him, quick and hard.

"Take it," Phil says into his ear. "Take it, Clint, take it all for me."

Clint rests his forehead against the tile, letting out a shuddering breath. "Yeah," he sighs. "Yeah, please, I- _touch_ me, I need-"

Before Clint can finish his sentence, Phil's already got his hand around Clint's cock, stroking it quickly as he fucks him. "That what you want?" Phil says. "Gonna come for me?"

"Yes," Clint says, teeth clenched. "Can't wait, _Phil-_ "

Phil moves his hand faster. "Come on," he says urgently. "Come on, Clint."

Clint cries out as he comes, painting the shower wall with it. He almost falls then, but Phil has a death grip on his hips, pushing him against the wall and holding him there, so that he can fuck him just right, deep and good and overwhelmingly satisfying. Phil drives in one more time, biting Clint again when he comes, hard enough that Clint bucks against him.

It's a long time before Phil lets him go, turning him gently around to kiss him. Clint opens up eagerly, threading his fingers through the wet strands of Phil's hair, leaning back against the wall for support. "We do have to get clean at some point," Clint says, when they part. "Water's gonna get cold."

"It'll wait," Phil says, leaning back in again.


	50. Break Your Back - Loki/Sif

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And some Loki/Sif to round us out.

The bed he's bent over is hundreds of years old, hardwood and metal, but he's going to shake it down, make it fall into pieces. If they keep going this way, they're going to shake down all of Asgard's mighty halls, turn Yggdrasil into nothing but kindling.

He's not sure he might not fly into pieces first, broken up and scattered to the winds.

She fists her hand in his hair and he gasps, back bowing as she pulls. She's enormous inside of him, her cock splitting him open, and she won't relent, not for one instant, not until she's good and done with him.

"Sif," he pants, his fingers clutching at the bedclothes. "Sif, _please_ -"

"Say it," she says, hooking an arm around his hips so she can hold him closer, fuck him harder. " _Say it_."

"Sif," he says again, because that's what she wants, what she needs to hear. He'll say it, because there's no question, no doubt on anyone's part; no one could do this to him but her. "Sif, Sif-"

She yanks sharply on his hair, and he hisses. "Louder than that," she orders. "I want everyone to hear. Everyone is going to _know_ , Loki."

He groans, his body moving back against her, begging for more without his mind's permission. "Sif," he says; now he's almost shouting it, and he doesn't care, not one bit. "More, Sif, please, give me more."

She pauses, kicking his legs further apart before she starts again. She's so deep inside, so far into him that her skin slaps against his when they move. He tries to shift, and she doesn't let him, putting a hand between his shoulderblades and pushing down hard. He is well and truly hers, caught, kept, trammeled.

He hates and loves it in equal measure, but she hasn't given him another option.

"Sif," he says through clenched teeth, almost at his end. "Sif, I- please-" She doesn't say a word, just thrusts into him harder, hard enough the bed creaks in warning. Her name is on his lips when he comes, loud and long and messy, completely out of control.

He tries to move again, but she still won't let him, catching his wrists and holding them down, stretching herself out over his body. She licks a stripe up his neck, up over his jaw. "I'm not finished," she says into his ear.

He settles back into the bed. "Yes, my lady," he says, letting her take anything she wants.


End file.
